A Friend In Need: Dinnertime
by makolane
Summary: ***SLASH*** Dinner and discoveries await Joey and Chandler. (J/C SLASH)


*** Your Title Here ***

Category: **Slash**, Humor, Angst  
Fandom: Friends- Joey/Chandler  
**Rating: PG-13 (some sexual situations BETWEEN TWO MEN)  
**Disclaimer: These characters belong to NBC-TV and their  
creators. No copyright infringement is intended and no money  
will ever be made from this story.  


**WARNING**: "Slash" means loving interaction between  
characters of the same sex. If this is not your thing, please  
read no further!

****

TITLE: A Friend in Need: Dinnertime by: mako 

00000000000

"Hi, honey, I'm home!"

Chandler Bing grimaced at the singsong greeting from his  
roommate, wishing that if Joey was going to annoy him every  
night when he arrived he'd at least find some new material to  
irritate him with. "Hi honey, please stop saying that," he  
lilted back sarcastically. "Okay?"

"Why?" Joey shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto a  
door hook. "How else would you know it's me and not some  
mugger or something?"

"That's true. Unless Nathan Lane's taken up cat burgling,"  
Chandler grumbled, tapping the television remote aimlessly.

Joey opened the 'fridge and sniffed at a milk container.  
"Nah. He's got a big show now, I don't think he'd have to  
stoop to that level." He winced at the sour smell of bad milk  
and dumped the container's contents into the sink. "Not  
unless he was starving to death. Speaking of starving, do we  
have any food in this house?"

Chandler sank further into the upholstery. "Yep. I left you  
the beets." 

Joey blinked. "The beets? Wait a minute, are you telling me  
all we got in this house are _beets_?"

"They're top-shelf beets," Chandler insisted innocently. "A  
full can of Grade A, chock full of nutrition, delicious  
purple num-nums."

Joey's lower lip trembled. "But ... I don't like purple num-  
nums." He searched the mostly empty shelves and pulled down   
the lone can. "Man, this sucks," he said mournfully, examining the  
label of an extra large can of Green Giant Sliced Beets. He  
put it down with a groan. "Guess I can wait until tomorrow  
morning for the food cart on the set." He shuffled into the  
living room and settled down next to Chandler on the couch, a  
woebegone look lining his face. 

Chandler tried to concentrate on the TV, but his eyes were  
drawn to his friend's miserable expression. He _had_ planned  
on keeping that last can of Chef Boy-R-Dee hidden in case of  
a true emergency but ... no, he thought, forcing himself to  
focus on the screen, he _was_ going to stick to the plan, no  
matter how unhappy Joey looked.

Another long, drawn-out sigh sounded in his ear and Chandler  
winced. "I don't mind the hunger cramps and pain," said  
Joey sadly. "But I sure wish this didn't remind me of the  
time my parents sent me to bed without dinner. Boy, that was  
a lousy month."

Chandler rolled his eyes. "A month. Your parents sent you  
to bed without dinner for a month?"

"Yeah. But that was okay. I didn't like squid that much  
back then. And that was definitely a squid month." Joey  
clutched at his stomach with a moan. "I sure hope they let  
me have more than half a donut tomorrow at work."

Chandler grit his teeth but in his heart, he knew resistance  
was futile. "Oh, all right!" he yelled, reaching into the  
sofa and pulling out the last can of Rollercoasters. "Here!  
But that's it. Tomorrow we'll have to raid Monica's and  
_you're_ going in past the mouse traps."

Joey smiled brilliantly. "I knew it!" He snatched the can,  
danced to the stove and laughed devilishly. "I knew you'd  
never leave me with the beets."

"And why is that?" Chandler groused, wondering at warm wash  
of joy he felt at the sight of Joey's glee. Joey's happiness always   
made him happy for some bizarre reason, a reason he wasn't  
willing to contemplate at length, truly afraid of what he might find.

Or perhaps of what he knew already lurked there.

"'Cuz you love me," replied Joey firmly, plopping the can's  
contents into an already sizzling sauce pot. 

Chandler whirled toward him, nearly falling off the couch.  
"I _what_?" 

So much for non-contemplation.

Joey smiled at him. "Because you ... love ... me," he  
repeated happily, stirring his dinner. "And that's okay,  
because I love you too."

Chandler's eyes grew huge. "You're scaring me, Joey," he  
said, but in fact, it wasn't exactly fear he felt. Wonder,  
confusion, elation, excitement ... but not fear. Not  
exactly. How often had he fantasized about Joey, wondering  
why he was having such thoughts, hating himself for them,  
trying desperately to ignore his feelings by any means  
necessary, even to the point of denying them all together.

Oh, only about every day they'd been living together, that's all.

"Sorry," Joey shrugged. "But facts is facts as my old  
English teacher liked to say." He tasted the pasta then  
picked up the pepper mill, grinding some dark flakes into the  
pot. "Wait a minute ... is that right? Should that be  
'facts are facts'?" Another shrug. "No wonder I don't speak  
so good."

"Well," said Chandler, swallowing past a huge golf ball sized  
lump in his throat. "Speak so well."

Joey dumped the steaming noodles into two bowls. "Whatever.  
You like a spoon or a fork? I like spoons better myself."  
He plopped down next to Chandler and handed him a dish.  
"Take your choice."

Chandler stared at the proffered meal. "That's your dinner."

"Hey, I don't eat without you," Joey said indignantly. "It's  
rude, right? You'd never do that to me, right?"

Chandler flushed and shook his head. "Um, no, I wouldn't,  
I guess." He took the bowl. "Thanks ... pal." He paused.  
"And, we are _pals_, right Joey? Just pals. Nothing more  
than pals, and that's all we'll ever be is _pals_ ...right?"

Hoping against hope he'd be wrong, but Chandler needed  
to know just the same. His heart was thumping wildly but  
he could cover that up -- he'd had a lot of practice for it in the  
past few years, a day's worth for almost exactly as long as  
he'd lived with Joey.

Maybe even longer.

Oblivious, Joey chewed through a mouthful of food. "Whatever  
you say," he said, and grinned brightly at Chandler, his eyes  
crinkling merrily at the corners. "But I think anyone who  
gives up his last can of Rollercoasters is more than just a _pal_."

The dish trembled in Chandler's hand. "Okay," he  
said, gasping for air. "What do you mean by that?" The fork  
rattled against the bowl's side and the entire plate landed  
on the coffee table with a "thunk." "Because if you mean  
what I think you mean ... I mean, what you mean that you are  
insinuating you mean, then I mean ..." he rambled frantically.

His voice trailed away as Joey deliberately put down his  
dish, picked up a napkin and delicately wiped his mouth.

Chandler watched, fascinated and terrified by the sudden urge  
to pull away the napkin and take that beautiful mouth beneath  
his own, tongue away the tiny bits of sauce that lingered,  
run his hands over Joey's sides, snake his arms around his  
waist and ...

"I mean that you and I belong together," said Joey quietly,  
breaking through Chandler's fog of lust. "Look, even if  
we're never going to act on it, why should we kid ourselves?  
I was thinking about how lost we are without each other,  
about how we know what the other is thinking without even  
saying it, about how we just _fit_ together and it didn't  
take long to figure out that we were meant to be together."  
Joey chuckled softly. "And if it doesn't take long for _me_  
to realize something, I figured this should be a snap for you."

"Uh, huh," Chandler stammered. "But ... uh ... I mean ... well ...." 

"Okay, maybe this isn't so easy for you to figure out." Joey  
smiled, then settled back to watch the baseball game that was  
starting. "But we got time. Take all the time you need  
because I'm definitely not into rushing things."

"What's wrong with rushing things?" asked Chandler suddenly.  
"I like rushing. Nothing wrong with rushing."

"Nah," replied Joey with a shake of his head. He put his  
feet up on the coffee table and tucked his hands behind his  
head. "Rushing confuses people. And I don't want us to be  
confused."

"Damnit Joey, what's wrong with confusion?" Chandler yelled,  
leaping up and compulsively raking his hands through his  
hair. "I like confusion. I _live_ for confusion. I mean, I  
moved in with you didn't I? What's more confusing than that?"

Joey watched him carefully. "Why was that confusing?"

"Because ... because I wanted ... " Chandler sat down  
suddenly, breathing hard, his heart pounding painfully within  
his chest. 

What had it been that he'd wanted all those years ago? A  
person to share the bills with? A friend? A companion? A  
lover?

Or was it Joey he'd wanted, pure and simple? 

"What do you want, Chandler?" Joey looked at him intently,  
his eyes very bright in the dim light shining from the TV  
set. "Tell me, what do you want right now, right this  
minute, forgetting everything else, it's just you and me here  
together ... what is it you want?"

Time stood still for what seemed like eternity, until  
Chandler realized exactly what it was he'd wanted then and  
still wanted now. "You," he whispered, before leaning over  
and taking Joey's mouth beneath his own, no longer caring  
what may come of it. 

It was insanity, yes it was, but it was also what he'd been  
waiting for a very, very long time. Chandler felt a shock  
when their lips met, as if two wires had sparked together and  
it thrilled him all the way to his toes, making them curl  
with pleasure against the hardwood floor. 

Gently, he licked at Joey's mouth and bit back a moan when it  
flowered open beneath his touch , allowing him admittance  
inside. So good, so sweet, and his tongue flicked against  
Joey's teeth, as well as the soft silk of his inner cheeks  
and Chandler felt the roughness of another tongue exploring  
within his mouth, driving him out of his mind. 

It wasn't Chandler's first kiss, but it might as well had  
been and he fought against the urge to grope Joey like a  
love-sick teenager. A large part of his consciousness was  
intimidated by what he thought was the long line of fabulous  
lovers that came before him: movie starlets, groupies, men  
and women in a business that was based on beauty and desire. 

Beautiful, perfect people, all of them making love to his  
Joey, their fabulous lives, wealth and status something to be  
envied and admired, especially by a schlub like him. That  
nagging bit of insecurity bit at him harder, but Chandler  
ignored it, praying it would go away.

Joey was his and ... and ... 

But the more he thought about it, about all the wonderful  
lovers who came before him, the further his confidence  
plummeted and Chandler suddenly felt self-conscious,  
inadequate ... foolish even as Joey's mouth worked his way  
down Chandler's neck, his gentle hands sliding along his T-  
shirt. 

Feeling his not-so-perfect abs, going right for his love-  
handles and ...

Horrified, Chandler stiffened. He tried to shake it off, but  
the moment had disappeared as soon at it had arrived and he  
inwardly groaned at his own idiocy. "Joey," he said thickly,  
pulling away from his friend's touch. "Joey ... I ..."

Joey peered up at him, his eyes gone from brilliant to  
deeply sad in a matter of seconds. "You weren't ready," he  
said accusingly. "I told you, we can't rush this. See how  
confused you are?"

"I'm sorry," said Chandler shakily, suddenly feeling like the  
biggest asshole that had ever lived. If only he could  
explain to Joey the reasons ... 

But what was there to explain besides the fact that he was an  
idiot, Chandler thought, mentally banging his head against a  
very large, very hard, brick wall. "It's not you," Chandler  
insisted, squeezing Joey's arm, hard. "It's most definitely  
not you, or this or ..."

Joey examined him wryly. "It's all of those things. It's  
okay, you don't have to explain, I know." He flopped back  
against the couch, his eyes dark. A long moment of silence  
followed, tense and oppressive. "So, wanna watch the Mets or  
Yankees?" Joey said finally, his voice devoid of emotion.

Chandler bit back the tears that threatened, not daring to  
tell Joey he didn't want to do anything at that moment but  
make love to him, but the words refused to come out. A  
disaster, that's what this was, but what could he do?  
Something inside was holding him back and until he figured  
out what that was ...

"Yankees," Chandler replied quietly leaning back, arms folded  
tightly across his aching chest. 

"Right," said Joey flipping the channel as the announcer's  
voice sounded throughout the room. 

"And that's a strike, leaving the count at zero and one,  
ladies and gentlemen. One strike and two more to go."

And so the game went on.

0000000000  
end

Will Chandler overcome his insecurities?  
Will Joey ever finish his Rollercoasters?  
Will the Yanks win?

Tell me what _you_ think in a review below! Thanks for reading, mako. :-D


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